marvels of mediocrity

I am not a robot.

My boss greeted me after seeing me standing outside his office. I was furious but vowed to maintain my composure. He gestured at the empty chair in front of his desk and I silently accepted his invitation.

“What can I do for you?” my boss asked.

I felt like screaming at him but took a deep breath and tried to air my concerns with as much civility as possible.

“This workload,” I said with my voice rising in anger, “is beyond IMPOSSIBLE!”

So much for civility.

“And why is that?” my boss snapped back as he became defensive.

“There is NO WAY I can type at 10,000 words a minute while my head is spinning!”

“Well, how come THEY can?” my boss yelled, pointing to the cubicles outside his office. People sat at their desks typing at their keyboards so fast that there was a loud buzzing noise while their heads spun nonstop to glance at the documents and spreadsheets suspended from circular racks surrounding their heads.

“Just because they can do that doesn’t mean I can!” I shouted.

“AND WHY IS THAT?”

“BECAUSE I’M NOT A ROBOT!”

Now I had done it. The last thing anyone wants to do is scream at their boss, and despite my best intentions on relieving my frustration, made myself feel worse instead.

My boss only stared at me in shock. “You? Not a robot?” Slowly he reached for the glass of water on his desk and suddenly splashed it on my face.

That was it. I unscrewed the cap to the bottle of water I was holding and lunged for his desk while splashing the water all over his face. Abruptly sparks began to fly from his mouth, smoke came out of his ears as his head spun rapidly before it dropped to the floor. His arms reached around frantically while sparks and smoke flew from his neck until finally he exploded.

The explosion caused a fuse blowout that cut off power to the entire office. The robots sat still and quietly at their cubicles, awaiting the return of the electricity that so powered their very existence.